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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421558">We'll Get There</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guilty_Pleasuress/pseuds/Guilty_Pleasuress'>Guilty_Pleasuress</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Almost Home [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All of it is barely mentioned but its there, Attempted rape of a minor briefly mentioned, Family Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Protective Wilbur Soot, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Doubt, TW: Mentioned Attempted Rape, Talk of body image, To Be Continued, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), big time, but more of a brother ofc, foster parent wilbur, if yall want, no beta we die like thems, shippers fuck off</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:36:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guilty_Pleasuress/pseuds/Guilty_Pleasuress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is home, but there are still hurdles the boys will have to get over. Luckily, they have each other.<br/>TW: Mentioned child abuse, mentioned assault on a minor, mentioned attempted touching (I'm sorry Tommy gd), big self doubt</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Almost Home [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>751</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Useless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey y'all I'm back!!!<br/>So listen... It's really hard to write a developing friendship/brotherhood between the child and a grown man without it seeming creepy, especially when you've only written slash fics in the past, so this may take a bit longer to update then my last one, but I'm working on it I swear.<br/>ALSO HELLOW PLS LET ME KNOW if y'all like the shifting povs? Or would you like to read mainly from one of the povs? This one is mostly Wilbur tbh, but I'll probs start next chapter with Tommy to try and keep it balanced. Unless y'all say you like Wilbur more idk...<br/>Anyway, leave a comment if you enjoy, they defo spur me on ;)<br/>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy and Wilbur go shopping, things go down.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy had been living with Wilbur for around a week when the man realized they were going to have to get Tommy some new clothes. The boy had been living in Wilbur’s sweats and old t-shirts since he moved in, the fabric hanging loosely off his malnourished frame; and Tommy hadn’t left the flat much, but when he did he’d slip on his old, far too small sneakers that had holes in the soles that Wilbur knew the fresh layer of snow would seep right through.<br/>
</p><p>The sky had broken the morning after Tommy’s first night. When the two had woken up a good few inches of snow covered the sidewalk where Tommy used to sleep and Wilbur let out a sigh of relief knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about the kid freezing to death during the long winter nights. Tommy had just wrapped the blanket he’d brought out from his bed around himself tighter, snuggling into the couch when Wilbur put on some cartoons. They spent the whole morning there, the noise of the world outside muffled by the snow, the only sound coming from the tv and their laughter.<br/>
</p><p>Five days later, the snow had melted to sludge only for a new layer to fall on top of it, and Wilbur watched Tommy as he entered the room, the legs of his sweatpants dragging against the floor. Wilbur laughed, earning the glare from the teenager that would have been more intimidating if it wasn’t followed by Tommy rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Wilbur poured him a bowl of cereal as he walked up to the counter.<br/>
</p><p>“We should go shopping today,” WIlbur said, placing the bowl in front of his charge before turning to grab the milk.<br/>
</p><p>“You went to the grocery yesterday,” Tommy grunted, Wilbur turned back to him to see him resting his head in his palm as if it were too heavy to hold up. Tommy closed his eyes and his head almost slipped forward before he caught it. Wilbur smiled fondly.<br/>
</p><p>“Not for food, we need to get you some clothes of your own,” He said, handing Tommy the milk and ruffling his hair, Tommy’s head moved in time with Wilbur’s hand. “Did you sleep last night?” He asked, slightly concerned.<br/>
</p><p>“Eh, a bit,” Tommy said, lifting his head and batting Wilbur’s hand away. He poured his milk. “And I have clothes.” He capped the milk and took a bite. Wilbur narrowed his eyes at him.<br/>
</p><p>“You have<em> a </em>shirt and a deteriorating pair of jeans.” Wilbur argued.<br/>
</p><p>“See, clothes,” Tommy said, gesturing with his spoon. The older man shook his head in disbelief, leaning back against the counter opposite Tommy.<br/>
</p><p>“You need more than that,” Wilbur steeled himself, knowing he was in for a fight. Tommy always fought when it came to purchasing new belongings; he’d fought when Wilbur gave him the third Harry Potter — so much, in fact, that Wilbur just gave up trying to get the kid to take it and left on his airbed, refusing to take it back when Tommy tried; he’d fought when Wilbur suggested getting him a real bed; he even fought when Wilbur tried to get him to eat outside of normal meals. This would be no different.<br/>
</p><p>“Big man, I don’t know where you got the idea that I had money to buy a whole new wardrobe,” Tommy sassed and Wilbur rolled his eyes. He also knew that Tommy was completely aware that Wilbur was planning on footing the bill. It’s not like Wilbur didn’t have the money to, anyway.<br/>
</p><p>“Looks like I’ll be paying then,” Wilbur said, attempting to sound firm and leave no room for argument. Tommy, of course, stepped up to the challenge, setting his jaw and narrowing his eyes.<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t need any more charity.” Wilbur nearly snorted but he held himself back, knowing Tommy wouldn’t take that well. He crossed his arms over his chest. 
	</p><p>“No, but you do need more than one set of clothes.”<br/>
</p><p>“Wilbur-” Tommy groaned, leaning back in his chair and throwing his head back.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy~” Wilbur mocked and Tommy’s head snapped back up just to glare at him. Wilbur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, this kid was going to be the death of him. “Look, it’s either you come shopping with me and pick out your own clothes, <em>or,</em> I go alone and buy you the ugliest, <em>most expensive</em> clothes I can find.”<br/>
</p><p>Tommy stared him down for a moment, but Wilbur held his gaze steadily. Then, Tommy sighed, his shoulders dropping.<br/>
</p><p>“I’ll pay you back.” Tommy stated, his voice full of steel that no child should be able to harness. Wilbur just nodded, knowing he wouldn’t even take money from Tommy, but also knowing that this was important to the kid. Then leaned forward, over the counter to ruffle his hair.<br/>
</p><p>“Go get your shoes then, Toms, let’s get on it.”<br/>
</p><p>Tommy batted his hand away and rolled his eyes, but he was obviously fighting back a smile.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Tommy’s eyes went wider with every new thing Wilbur added to the cart and Wilbur couldn’t help but find it amusing. He’d been watching the kid closely from the moment they set foot in the store, noting every little item that caught his attention, following behind him to grab it. Tommy had mostly stopped arguing by the time the fifth t-shirt hit the growing pile of clothes; of maybe it was the third sweater.<br/>
</p><p>“Wilbur, that’s too big for me. In fact, I think most of this will be.” Tommy said, peaking over the edge of the cart as Wilbur tossed in a hoodie with the cover of Abbey Road that he’d seen Tommy eyeing for a solid five minutes. Wilbur smiled at him and pushed the cart to the pants section.<br/>
</p><p>“It won't be once we get some meat on your bones,” He threw a teasing grin over his shoulder, “Maybe then you’ll look less like Slender Man.” Wilbur could feel Tommy glaring at his back as he grabbed a few pairs of jeans he thought would fit.<br/>
</p><p>“You’re one to talk, you fucking string bean.” Tommy muttered, “And your references are aged, old man.” Wilbur gasped and turned around, leveling a glare of his own at the boy.<br/>
</p><p>“That was like… two thousand and nine, it is <em>not </em>that old.” Wilbur defended, the insult he took obvious in his voice. Tommy smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head to the side, Wilbur thought he looked a bit like a puppy, especially with that devious glint in his eyes.<br/>
</p><p>“Which would have made me five.” Tommy’s smirk grew as he watched Wilbur’s eyes go wide.<br/>
</p><p>“I<em> am</em> old.” The sting of the realization was worth it when Tommy’s laughter echoed off the walls. The kid grabbed the cart before Wilbur could put a fourth pair of jeans in it and started wheeling it away.<br/>
</p><p>“No more clothes, let’s go try stuff on.” He called over his shoulder as he took a running start and jumped onto the cart, riding it down the aisle.<br/>
</p><p>“Okay, but what about the jacket? Is it warm enough? Does it fit right? Do you want a different color?” Wilbur said, fretting as he followed in Tommy’s path. He heard Tommy sigh exasperatedly, getting off the cart when it slowed only to push it and jump on again.<br/>
</p><p>“I like the jacket, thank you,” Tommy said sassily, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile, he liked seeing Tommy acting like the kid he was. “Also, I can’t-”<br/>
</p><p>Tommy’s voice was cut off by another as he finally broke free of the aisle, into the main walkway of the store.<br/>
</p><p>“Hey, watch it kid!” A woman’s voice shrieked. Tommy immediately hopped off the cart, pulling it to a stop. He was far enough ahead that wIlbur couldn’t see what happened, but it looked as if Tommy stopped quickly enough to avoid an accident. Only, apparently the woman didn’t see it that way.<br/>
</p><p>“What the <em>fuck </em>do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, he voice still at shriek volume. Wilbur hurried his steps. “This is a public store, not your playground, you should be showing some decency! What, were you raised on the streets?” Wilbur bristled at her words as he drew near, noticing Tommy shrinking in on himself, his shoulders bunched by his ears. An angry, protective heat coursed through Wilbur’s blood, something he hadn’t really been expecting to feel for the boy, let alone so soon.<br/>
</p><p>“I’m sorry, ma’am-” Tommy said, his voice barely a whisper, Wilbur had never heard anything like it coming from the boy, the closest time had been when he’d lost the blanket. Even when they’d first met Tommy had been filled with steel and fire, not… Whatever this was.<br/>
</p><p>“You already apologised, Tommy, you don’t need to do it again.” Wilbur cut in, draping an arm over the young boy’s thin shoulders. Tommy flinched, but then sunk back into Wilbur’s side.<br/>
</p><p>“Actually-” The woman started, but Wilbur’s eyes cut from Tommy to her with a fierce glint, and he decided he didn’t want to hear her talk anymore.<br/>
</p><p>“What made you believe you could yell at other people’s kids.” Wilbur spoke over her. It wasn’t a question, not really. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms, acrylic nails tapping at her elbow.<br/>
</p><p>“There’s no way he’s your kid, you’re a child yourself.” Wilbur didn’t see how that was relevant, but if she wanted to play the age card he was all for it.<br/>
</p><p>“No, but I am his guardian.” It was a lie and he didn’t miss the way Tommy stiffened at the words, but Wilbur couldn’t help but think he liked the idea. He stored that thought away for later and plastered a sickly sweet smile to his face. “And just because you’re too old to have your own kids doesn’t mean you have the right to try to parent mine.” To be completely honest, the woman didn’t look that old — she was maybe in her late thirties — but that didn’t stop her from taking the insult personally. Amusement cut through the anger burning him from the inside out as he watched her face go red.<br/>
</p><p><em>“Well,” </em>The woman hissed, her thin, red lips stretching into a grimace. “I guess I know where he got his manners from, riding through the aisles like a madman.” She glared at Tommy, Wilbur glared at her, Tommy glared down at his feet.<br/>
</p><p>“He’s a <em>child,</em> he was having fun. It’s what kids are supposed to do, though, you may not remember.” Wilbur could see the woman’s jaw clench.<br/>
</p><p>“Careful, or he’ll grow up as useless and obnoxious as he is now.” The woman said before promptly turning on her heel and stalking away. Wilbur almost went after her because of that last comment but he stopped himself when he felt Tommy’s fingers twisting in his sweater.<br/>
</p><p>“What a cunt.” Wilbur said instead to the woman’s shrinking figure, before turning to the boy next to him. “Are you okay, Toms?” He asked, his voice quiet and considerably softer than when he’d spoken to the woman just seconds before. Tommy shrugged and whispered something that Wilbur couldn’t make out.<br/>
</p><p>“What was that, bud?” He asked, his hand dropping from Tommy’s shoulder to his upper back, rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles. Tommy shook his head and lifted a fist to rub at his nose, he sniffled but Wilbur couldn’t see if he was crying. If Tommy <em>was </em>crying, Wilbur decided he would hunt that woman down to continue their <em>conversation.</em> Not that he didn’t already want to.<br/>
</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Tommy said, his voice a little louder, but still barely loud enough for Wilbur to hear. Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows.<br/>
</p><p>“Why the hell are <em>you</em> sorry?” He asked, genuinely confused. “She was the bitch, I swear I woulda-” Wilbur cut himself off, knowing Tommy didn’t need to hear him talking about wanting to beat up the lady.<br/>
</p><p>“‘Cause I caused trouble. And she was right, I am obnoxious.” Wilbur’s heart broke and he looked over his shoulder to glare in the direction the woman had gone. She had caused this, she had made Tommy hurt. He quickly averted his attention back to Tommy, focusing on the woman wouldn’t do him any good now.<br/>
</p><p>He sighed and grabbed Tommy’s chin, forcing his face up gently before dropping his hand. Wilbur was glad to see the kid wasn’t crying, though the way his blue eyes were shining suggested he still might.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy, listen to me, you are not at fault here. At no point should an adult woman be yelling at a kid she doesn’t know; especially in a situation like this when no one was hurt and you apologised immediately.” Wilbur stopped rubbing his back, grabbing his shoulder instead and shook him lighty. “And, yeah you’re obnoxious, it’s part of your charm, you little gremlin.” He forced a laugh as he said it, trying to encourage Tommy to do the same. The boy didn’t, but he smiled slightly so Wilbur counted that as a victory.<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t really wanna try on clothes anymore…” Tommy said with a sniffle. Wilbur nodded, he wasn’t surprised.<br/>
</p><p>“That’s alright, we can just buy this stuff now and I’ll return whatever doesn’t fit. We’ll have to order you shoes, though,” Wilbur said, realizing they hadn’t gotten to the footwear section yet. Tommy nodded and pulled away completely, grabbing the cart once again. Wilbur shoved his hands in his pockets and kept in step at Tommy’s side. 
	</p><p>“You know you’re not useless, right?” Wilbur asks after a moment of silence.<br/>
</p><p>“No.” Was Tommy’s absolutely heart shattering reply. Wilbur sighed and smiled sadly as they neared the self-checkout.<br/>
</p><p>“We’ll have to work on that then,”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Tommy was in a marginally better mood by the time they walked through the door to the flat, hands full with shopping bags. On the car ride back Wilbur had tried to assure Tommy that everything the woman had said was wrong, but he didn’t want to push too hard, so he’d stopped himself from turning full inspirational speaker and passed Tommy his phone telling him to put on any music he wanted.<br/>
</p><p>“Why don’t you go bring these bags to your room, Toms, and I’ll make us some lunch.” Wilbur suggested. Tommy shrugged and took the bags Wilbur held as well before making his way down the hallway. Wilbur watched him go before sighing and kicking off his boots. Tommy had yet to speak when it was completely necessary, instead responding with simple gestures and nods. Wilbur wished that the stranger’s words wouldn’t have such an effect on the kid, but he supposed he could understand, he couldn’t help but think that they had been spit at Tommy numerous times in the past — what with him being such a loud energetic kid who Wilbur could only assume grew up in the system since Tommy didn’t share much about his past.<br/>
</p><p>He sighed again and pulled out his phone, texting Phil as he made his way into the kitchen.<br/>
</p><p><em>Wil - 1:03: Some cunt yelled at Tommy in the store and now he’s not speaking, what do I do???<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>Wilbur looked through the fridge and decided on making cheese toasties, knowing Tommy loved them. Maybe they could walk to get ice cream after as a treat. But then again it was winter and Tommy’s shoes had holes, so Wilbur threw away the idea. His phone buzzed pulling him from his thoughts about how to cheer Tommy up.<br/>
</p><p><em>Dadza - 1:05: What did they say?<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>Wilbur felt his blood boil just thinking about it.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>Wil - 1:05: She said he was mismannered, obnoxious, and, get this, useless<br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>Wil - 1:06: I almost punched her then and there, fuck not hitting women.<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>Wilbur smiled at the idea, imagining when her reaction would have been. She probably would have called the cops, but it would have been worth it. He started on the sandwiches while he waited for a reply.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>Dadza - 1:09: And he believed her?<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dadza - 1:09: Also, not hitting anyone, please. I would prefer not to have to bail you out of jail.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wil - 1:09: Yeah, and nearly cried<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wil - 1:09: No promises if I see her again<br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>Dadza - 1:10: I’m assuming you told him she was wrong?<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>Phil’s replies were coming faster now, so Wilbur put down the knife he’d gotten to cut the cheese with and leaned against the counter, deciding to put his full attention into the conversation.<br/>
<em></em></p><p>
  <em>Wil - 1:10: Ofc I did. I think he believed me a bit but not complealty…<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dadza - 1:10: I don’t know what to tell you other then to keep trying<br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>Dadza - 1:11: Maybe try and distract him? </em><br/>
</p><p>Wilbur groaned; that was all he’d been able to come up with either.<br/>
</p><p><em>Wil - 1:12: I’ll try. I’m making lunch now so I’ll let you know how it goes.<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>Phil just sent a thumbs up in response so Wilbur locked his phone, going back to work on lunch.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Tommy pulled off his jacket and the shirt he’d worn to the store, grabbing the hoodie he’d left laying neatly on the bed. It was Wilbur’s, and Tommy wondered if Wilbur would mind him wearing it now that he had his own clothes. The boy hoped not, he’d developed quite a liking to that specific hoodie; it was soft, and worn, and too big for Tommy — big enough that he could pull his knees up inside of it when he was sitting, big enough that it must have been too big on Wilbur too.<br/>
</p><p>The gray fabric slid over his head, fluffing his hair.<br/>
</p><p>Something about it made him feel safe.<br/>
</p><p>It was an odd feeling to get from a hoodie, especially an old, stained one that repped a university he’d never heard of, let alone gone too. So Tommy had decided to not dwell on it, and instead flipped the hood up, trying to block out all noise.<br/>
</p><p>It wasn’t the sounds in the flat that were bothering him, though, but the voices in his head repeating the shit he’d heard over and over again since his parents had died. It was a headache inducing blending of speakers; of all the foster parents and social workers and older ‘siblings’ he’d had, all telling him variants of the same thing.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why’re you so loud, do you ever shut up?”<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you think anyone could actually love you with a personality like that?”<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sit down and be quiet, please, for once,”<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re a good kid, Tommy, but you need to learn how to be quiet.”<br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>“God you’re so obnoxious, I wish my parents would just send you back.”<br/>
</em>
	</p><p>And those were the nicer ones. Deep, deep in the background, as far as he’d been able to suppress it, there was screaming, there was yelling, there was the <em>crack</em> of slaps, of skin on skin. There were choked back sobs and apologies too, but those were all in his voice.<br/>
</p><p>He looked to where the bags sat on the floor. How long until Wilbur got annoyed with him too? He didn’t believe the man to be capable of yelling at him, even less so of hitting Tommy, but the boy couldn’t help but worry about how Wilbur would snap when the time came. When he couldn’t tolerate Tommy anymore. He felt his eyes filling at the thought, he’d almost cried so many times since he’d first met Wilbur, more time than in the whole of the previous year, but he refused to let the tears fall. He refused to break his streak.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy didn’t know how long he had been sitting there holding back tears when there was a knock on the door. He looked up, watching as the door creaked open.<br/>
</p><p>“You mind if I come in, Toms?” Wilbur asked, not opening the door more than was necessary. Tommy was grateful that wilbur always waited for permission, he’d had more privacy in that flat than he remembered ever having in the past.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah,” Tommy said, voice rough. The door opened the rest of the way to reveal Wilbur standing there with a gentle smile on his face and a plate full of sandwiches. Tommy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the amount he’d made. “Wil, I don’t think we’ll be needing that many sandwiches,” Tommy said with a slight laugh, but it sounded forced even to his own ears. Wilbur shrugged.<br/>
</p><p>“Told ya, we gotta make those clothes fit.” Wilbur crossed the room, sitting on the floor next to the airbed that he kept trying to replace with a real mattress, and held out the plate for Tommy. Tommy picked up a sandwich and turned it over in his hands. He cleared his throat.<br/>
</p><p>“Speaking of, I don’t think they’re all going to fit in my backpack,” Tommy said, looking from the pile of bags to where his backpack sat by the desk. Wilbur made a questioning sound, drawing Tommy’s gaze. The older man looked confused and slightly worried, his eyebrows drawn together.<br/>
</p><p>“Are you planning on going on holiday?” Wilbur asked, “Because it’s either that or you’re running away, and I’d prefer a tropical island to a cold street.” He picked up a sandwich of his own and took a bite of it. Tommy shook his head.<br/>
</p><p>“Just… For when it’s time for me to go.” Tommy said, unable to keep the sadness in his voice. He watched as Wilbur swallowed slowly, a realization crossing the man’s face.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy, you don’t think I’m going to kick you out, do you?” He asked, Tommy shrugged.<br/>
</p><p>“I figured this was just for the winter, so I don’t freeze to death on your street. Wouldn’t want the cops to come a’knocking.” Tommy tried to joke, but judging by the hurt in Wilbur’s eyes, it didn’t land.<br/>
</p><p>“If I wanted you off my street I would have just called CPS.” Wilbur said. Tommy hadn’t even thought about that.<br/>
</p><p>“And why didn’t you?” Wilbur thought about the question for a moment then shrugged.<br/>
</p><p>“Honestly, it never crossed my mind. Maybe I figured there was a reason you weren’t in their custody already,” And it hit him then just how little Wilbur knew about him, just how few questions he’d asked. Wilbur had never tried to snoop in Tommy’s business or put his nose where it didn’t belong. He’d opened up his home to Tommy and he didn’t even know why Tommy was on the streets in the first place. But he deserved to know.<br/>
</p><p>“My parents died when I was twelve, I’ve been in the foster system since then.” Tommy started, pulling his knees up to his chest and stretching the hoodie over them. Wilbur opened his mouth but Tommy continued. “Not all the houses were bad, some just weren’t the right fit, but… A lot of them were not the best. They liked to tell me I was obnoxious, or too loud, or too whiny, so I’d try not to be but I never have been very good at being quiet.” Tommy looked at the sandwich that was still in his hands, he knew he should eat it, he knew he’d gone so long not knowing where his next meal would come from and he should appreciate food when it was placed in front of him. He set it back down on the plate.<br/>
</p><p>“The last one was the worst. They liked to throw these parties and they’d get drunk with all their friends and make me play their servant, fetching drinks and cleaning up messes. Their friends liked to make me drink, too, but most of the time I avoided it.” Tommy stared dead ahead, eyes steady on the wall, and reached out unknowingly, grasping the air until he felt Wilbur’s hand slide into his. “The night I ran away one of their friends tried to touch me and my foster dad got mad when I didn’t let him, so I ran and locked myself in my room and I-I grabbed what I could and jumped out the window. They were banging on the door behind me so I didn’t grab much, but at least they were too drunk to chase me down.”<br/>
</p><p>There was silence in the room for a moment and Tommy could actually feel the anger radiating off of Wilbur, but for once Tommy wasn’t scared. Wilbur held his hand gently and that was what mattered.<br/>
</p><p> “Toms,” Wilbur finally spoke, his voice sounded close to broken. Tommy looked over to see tears in the man’s eyes. “I don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you this, but I’m willing to do it until you believe me: you’re not obnoxious, you’re not too loud, and you are allowed to stay here as long as you want. You’re just a kid you shouldn’t have- none of this should have happened to you, but you’re home now, if you want to be.” Tommy’s heart warmed at Wilbur’s words, he trusted them, he trusted Wilbur, but doubt has a habit of lingering.<br/>
</p><p>“Why?” Tommy couldn’t help but ask. Wilbur squeezed his hand.<br/>
</p><p>“‘Cause I care about you, bud,”<br/>
</p><p>And, surprisingly, Tommy believed him.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Snack Basket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur is worried that Tommy's not eating enough, Tommy is worried about eating too much. <br/>*Trigger/content warning* bad relationship with food (kinda), talk of food insecurity, talk/description of body image. TOMMY DOESN'T HAVE AN ED he's just worried about eating too much for Wilbur, ya know?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello hello, long time no see :) <br/>Complete filler that I thought of and couldn't not write, it's very short (don't worry I'm posting the next chapter literally right after this).<br/>Anyway, don't send this to any of the CC's and enjoy. Leave a comment/kudos if you do? Y'all always make my day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s not eating, Phil.” Wilbur said into the phone early one morning while Tommy was still asleep, his voice frantic and worried. “I mean, he has meals three times a day and he’ll eat food when I physically put it in front of him, but he won't help himself no matter how many times I’ve told him to!” <br/>
	</p><p>Wilbur had noticed it a few days ago, the way Tommy would stare longingly at the kitchen between meals; the way his stomach would grumble around midday; the way the boy would get a little quieter and grumpier when he didn’t have enough food in his system. Wilbur would tell him to go get something from the pantry, but Tommy would deny being hungry until Wilbur would sigh and fetch something himself, at which point the boy would argue until Wilbur ignored his refusals. Only after Wilbur gave him the cold shoulder would he scarf down the food. <br/>
	</p><p>Wilbur had also noticed that in the week and a half since Tommy had moved in he’d put on very little weight. Sure, Wilbur knew it hadn’t been long enough for much of an improval, and, yes Tommy’s cheeks had a bit more boyish chub to them, but his arms still looked exceedingly frail, and his torso — when it wasn’t swallowed by an oversized jumper — was dangerously thin, his chest nearly concave. Wilbur worried, perhaps more than he should considering he knew for a fact the boy was eating, but he didn’t know how to fix it. <br/>
	</p><p>So once again he turned to Phil, a man who had absolutely no reason to know any way to help Wilbur in his situation, but somehow always properly diagnosed the problem and suggested the right solution.  <br/>
	</p><p>“Wilbur, take a breath mate” Phil’s voice was tinney yet calming through the phone speakers. Wilbur automatically did as he was told, only then realizing that he was starting to hyperventilate. He heard Phil sigh. “I don’t know for certain, but he’s probably worried about messing up, like… overstepping.” Wilbur made a questioning noise. <br/>
	</p><p>“What do you mean? I told him to help himself,” Wilbur threw his head back against the couch cushion behind him, still trying to calm his breathing. <br/>
	</p><p>“Look, we don’t know much about his past but he’s probably not been fed properly for most of it, considering how bad he’s suggested his past homes have been.” Phil explained, his patience seemingly knowing no bounds. “I did some research and apparently a lot of foster kids have poor relationships with food because of ‘food insecurity’, or something... So here is this boy, obviously malnourished, obviously with a tragic past, and he’s finally given a good home where he’s fed and clothed and cared for properly. Surely it’s a relief, but it must also be terrifying knowing it could all be ripped away at one misstep. You’ve given him free range, but he’s presumably never had that before, he has no clue what it means for him.<br/>
</p><p>“What I’m trying to say is he doesn’t know where the boundaries are and he’s too afraid to push and lose what you’ve given him. Do you understand?” Phil asked. Wilbur was surprised to find that the answer was yes. He sighed and leaned forward, placing his face in his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose. <br/>
</p><p>He felt a little guilty when Phil said he’d done research, he should be doing research, Tommy was his responsibility after all. He pushed the thought away, knowing Phil was more than happy to help, in fact, Wilbur was starting to believe the older man cared about Tommy almost as much as Wilbur did, despite never meeting him in person.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah. So what do I do?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled. Phil huffed out a laugh. <br/>
</p><p>“That’s the question, isn’t it…” He was quiet for a moment, the only sound the white noise that came over the phone line. “I guess if he’s worried about breaking the rules you need to make the rules known?” <br/>
</p><p>“But-” <br/>
</p><p>“I know,” Phil cut him off, “free range, we’ve been over this. But to start him off maybe you need to give him something familiar.” Wilbur heard the typing of a keyboard and then a hum. “The internet says to make a snack basket and put it on the counter, tell the kid they can eat anything from it whenever they’re hungry. After they get used to that move it to the pantry and tell them they’re still welcome to it and anything else. If that doesn’t work give the kid the snacks directly and let them keep them in their room… Seems simple enough, right?” <br/>
</p><p>Wilbur groaned and moved the hand from his face, running it through his hair instead. <br/>
</p><p>“I’m going to have to buy a basket.” <br/>
	</p><p>Phil laughed. <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Wilbur was standing proudly beside a basket full of snack crips bags, biscuits, and protein bars. Tommy just stared at him, confused.<br/> 
	</p><p>“This is what you wanted to show me?” He asked, eyes flicking between the man and his basket. Wilbur’s broad smile faltered for a second, but it was back in full force a moment later and he was nodding excitedly, still not explaining. “Wil, big man, I’m gonna need a bit more info.” <br/>
	</p><p>“Oh,” Wilbur’s eyes widened and he chuckled, “Oh! Of course you do, sorry I got a bit excited,” Tommy eyed him warily, had the man cracked? <br/>
	</p><p>“...Over a snack basket.” <br/>
	</p><p>“Over <em>your</em> snack basket!” Wilbur said, nearly bouncing. Tommy still didn’t get why he was so excited over it. He waved Wilbur on. “I noticed you didn’t like to get stuff from the pantry, and Phil said you may be overwhelmed, so I made you a basket! I don’t know what snacks you like, you can pick them out next time if you’d like, but we’ve got Doritos and Walkers and Jammies and-” The man continued rifling through the basket, naming things, but Tommy couldn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears. <br/>
</p><p>Tommy had been lost and hungry for years, his memory filled with locked kitchen cupboards and pantries, under filled dinner plates, and hunger pains as he tried to sleep. And here Wilbur was, not only making sure he ate three times a day, but also spending even more money on him, giving him food to snack on as well so he would never be hungry. Tommy’s eyes went foggy and he was sure his hands were shaking — he tried to take a deep breath only to choke on it. <br/>
</p><p>“-Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice cut through the noise, he sounded hesitant and worried. “Did I mess up?” Tommy blinked away the wet from his eyes, rubbing at them roughly with the back of his hand, and sniffled. He shook his head frantically.<br/>
</p><p>“Those are for me?” He asked, his voice raw with emotion. <br/>
</p><p>“I-” Wilbur looked between him and the basket, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, I want you to eat when you’re hungry, but I understand just telling you to eat whatever was a little overwhelming to start with.” Tommy nodded and sniffled again. He’d tried to give up on being surprised when Wilbur read him like a book or guessed his problems before Tommy even realized what was wrong. But nevertheless he was once again speechless by the man’s kindness. Wilbur watched him carefully. “Will this help?” He asked after a moment, worry evident in every line of his body.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy didn’t answer, instead shooting forward much like he had his first night there, and nearly tackling Wilbur in a hug, clutching onto the older man’s shirt. <br/>
</p><p>Where Tommy was rash and quick moving with a sort of jerkiness that came from not knowing how to initiate physical affection, Wilbur was careful and deliberate. He wrapped his arms around Tommy slowly, giving the boy time to pull away, and held him loosely in a way that made Tommy feel unrestrained but also safe and protected. Tommy hooked his chin over his friend’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, I think it will. Thank you, Wilbur.” Tommy said, finally answering the question that was posed to him. He shuffled closer to Wilbur, the man lifted a hand from his back and carded his fingers through Tommy’s curls, making him melt into the embrace further. Tommy could nearly feel the tension leave Wilbur’s body as well. <br/>
</p><p>“Good, I’m glad. Eventually maybe we can get you used to raiding my cupboards.” Wilbur said after a moment. Tommy laughed and pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. <br/>
</p><p>“I dunno about that...” <br/>
</p><p>Wilbur just smiled kindly and grabbed a bag of crisps from the basket, pushing it into Tommy’s hands. <br/>
</p><p>“It may take a bit, but we’ll get there.” Tommy took the crisps and watched as Wilbur leaned back against the counter, the smile never leaving his face. “I’m in for the long haul.” <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Never Felt So at Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy gets a bed and meets an old friend.<br/>Trigger/content warnings: PANIC ATTACKS HELLO, also a bit of self-doubt but when is that not here lets be real</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to the end :)<br/>Okay, where to start... Like I've said before, developing relationships between adults and minors are kinda hard to write without making it creepy (one of the reasons this took so long and why this is quite messy lets be real) s o I will be taking a break from this series for a bit. I still have ideas that I would like to expand upon (like actual fostering ooop and a bunch more I literally have a list) so this wont be the e n d end, hopefully.<br/>BUT I love this dynamic and SBI, so if anyone has any ideas/requests for something outside of this universe feel free to leave them in the comments! I'd love to see what I can do with them (bonus points if they actually involve Techno and Phil unlike this one).<br/>Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Don't forget there is a panic attack in this so if that will bother you or trigger you please don't read, take care of yourself &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, we’re getting you a real bed.” Wilbur said around the two week mark when he walked past Tommy’s open door to see the boy nearly touching the ground where he was sitting half sunken in the middle of his airbed. Tommy’s head snapped up, seeing Wilbur leaning against his door frame, an unimpressed look on his face. Tommy felt panic rise, he didn’t know much about money and the civilized adult world — although he <em>did </em>know more than any child should about surviving — but he was sure that new mattresses were expensive. He seriously doubted that he would be able to find one in the price range of a jobless 16 year old boy; aka free.<br/>
</p><p>“Wil-” Tommy tried to protest, but gave him a no-nonsense glare.<br/>
</p><p>“No, Tommy, we’re not debating this anymore.” Wilbur’s voice was firm, but the assertive look on his face softened as Tommy began to fidget. Wilbur pushed off the door frame and crossed the room to where Tommy sat on the bed, attempting to sit on the edge, only to sink to the ground. Tommy shot up and bounced as the air was pushed under him, he would have laughed if he wasn’t so distraught. Wilbur sighed but didn’t bother trying to get up, turning to face Tommy instead. “Don’t worry about it Toms, I need a guest bed anyway.” He said and Tommy felt his stomach drop.<br/>
</p><p>He’d nearly forgotten that this wasn’t permanent, nearly convinced himself that it was. Wilbur had told him he could stay as long as he wanted and Tommy had believed him. He forgot that he’d made a rule to stop believing in anyone three houses in. But Wilbur had never given Tommy any reason not to trust him.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy felt his mind spilt, one half berating him for breaking his own rule, the other begging him to believe that Wilbur wasn’t like that, that the man wasn’t going to kick him out as soon as someone better came along.<br/>
</p><p>There was a hand on his shoulder, a voice speaking below the screaming in his mind, too quiet for Tommy to understand. He heard his name, he felt the fingers tighten, not painfully so, but solid and grounding. He lifted his own hand subconsciously, placing it on top of Wilbur’s, feeling heat seep into his shoulder and palm. Tommy felt lost in the chaos of his mind, the storm raging around him, but that place of warmth was his anchor. Slowly, he registered his racing heart and heaving chest; slowly, he began to make out what Wilbur was saying over the whirling winds.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy, Toms,” His voice was calm but there was an obvious edge to it, something akin to fear or worry. “Come on, bud, I need you to take a deep breath.” Tommy nodded, attempting to do as he was told. His fingers curled around Wilbur’s hand, his fingers digging into the other man’s palm. Deep in his mind Tommy registered Wilbur flinching, he was glad when he didn’t pull away.<br/>
</p><p>“Slow it down, Tommy, count to five with me,” Tommy nodded again, breathing in as Wilbur counted aloud. He reached four before a cough ripped through his chest.<br/>
</p><p>Wilbur flipped his hand over, holding tightly onto Tommy’s, and pulled the boy closer, sliding off the mattress and onto the ground, guiding Tommy to follow him. It was a difficult maneuver with the air mattress shifting under him like an angry sea, attempting to swallow him whole. Tommy tried to keep breathing and let Wilbur tug him to wherever he needed to be. He felt himself settle near to Wilbur, his hand still tightly in the older man’s grasp.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy made himself focus on the numbers as Wilbur started counting again. He could hear Wilbur’s own steady breathing next to him, he could imagine their lungs expanding and contacting. Soon they fell into a rhythm and Tommy’s breathing evened out, but Wilbur didn’t let go of his hand. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Tommy caught his breath.<br/>
</p><p>“Do you have panic attacks often?” Wilbur asked eventually. Tommy shrugged, a bone deep exhaustion settling into him. He scooted closer to Wilbur, letting his head drop onto the man’s shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>“That wasn’t the first one, but I’m a big man, I can handle it.” Tommy said. He could feel Wilbur shift as he shook his head.<br/>
</p><p>“Big men have anxiety too.” Wilbur squeezed his hand. “And they’re allowed to ask for help when they do.” When Tommy only nodded in acknowledgment Wilbur spoke again.<br/>
</p><p>“Do you wanna talk about what triggered it?” He asked softly. Tommy sighed, he knew Wilbur wouldn’t push him if he didn’t want to talk about it, but he also knew the man would worry and — even though it was nice to have someone worry about him for once — Tommy didn’t think that was quite fair. The only problem was Tommy didn’t really know how to share about his feelings.<br/>
</p><p>“A guest bed?” He asked instead. Tommy could imagine the way Wilbur’s eyebrows would furrow in confusion at Tommy’s random line of questioning.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, so the airbed is free incase someone visits.” Wilbur said, that same confusion lacing his voice. Understanding dawned on Tommy, he couldn’t help but feel stupid.<br/>
</p><p>“So the air mattress is the guest bed…?”<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah? I’m sorry, I don’t understand-” Wilbur cut himself off and Tommy heard him curse under his breath. “That’s not what I meant, Tommy,” Wilbur said, pulling away just enough to wiggle his arm loose, wrapping it around Tommy’s shoulders. “This will be your bed just like this is your room. You’re not a guest, this is your home.” Wilbur’s words were assuring, and Tommy hadn’t realized that he was on the verge of slipping back into his panic until he felt them settle over him like a warm blanket.<br/>
</p><p>“Okay,” Tommy said, breath starting to come easier as Wilbur began to rub his shoulder seemingly subconsciously. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”<br/>
</p><p>“Don’t ever apologize for something like that, you did nothing wrong.” Wilbur gave him a slight squeeze. “I’m sorry for my shit poor phrasing.” Tommy huffed out a laugh at that, withdrawing his hand from Wilbur’s to fiddle with his fingers in his lap. He didn’t want to get up.<br/>
</p><p>“How about we order a pizza and go online mattress shopping. Mattress stores give me the creeps.” Wilbur said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.<br/>
</p><p>“What a weird thing to be creeped out by,” Tommy couldn’t help but tease, a bit of his fire returning. Wilbur pulled back and shoved his shoulder playfully with a scoff.<br/>
</p><p>“I read something once about them being money laundering fronts, it’s a completely valid fear.” That startled a laugh out of Tommy.<br/>
</p><p>“Must be an American thing.” He said, pushing off the ground and offering Wilbur a hand up. “But sounds good to me.” Wilbur rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Wilbur was coming to the realization that he was going to have to start being careful with his phrasing. He paused in the kitchen doorway for a moment, pizza box in hand, and watched the boy that sat on his couch.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy had obviously not fully recovered from his panic attack; he was curled in on himself, deceptively small looking considering his height. He was wearing Wilbur’s hoodie — the one he’d commandeered within the first few days of his stay that Wilbur had decided to not request back — and it nearly swallowed him whole, the hood was flipped up and the drawstrings were pulled snug, something Wilbur had only seen when the boy was exhausted or after the shopping incident. He sat on the couch carefully, his feet planted firmly on the ground, hands folded in his lap — the way you sit when you’re visiting your Nan and you don’t want her to yell at you for slouching. He stared blindly at the wall.<br/>
</p><p>“Pizza,” Wilbur said, breaking himself out of his stupor. Tommy jumped slightly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled, but it looked slightly forced, and accepted the box when Wilbur handed it to him. He carefully pulled out a piece, taking a small bite.<br/>
</p><p>“So I was thinking we just pick a bed with good reviews and then we can get you new bedding and maybe a few more things for your room?” Wilbur suggested, trying to distract Tommy with online shopping. He grabbed his laptop and sat down next to the boy, taking a slice of pizza when it was shoved at his.<br/>
</p><p>“Things?” Tommy asked, voice quiet and unobtrusive and so very un-Tommy-like. Wilbur hummed and opened a new browser with one hand, taking a bite from the pizza in his other.<br/>
</p><p>“Posters, knick-knacks, and such…” Wilbur said offhandedly, distracted as he searched for sites that sold mattresses.<br/>
</p><p>“You-you want me to decorate?” Wilbur glanced away from his screen to look at Tommy’s face. The boy looked confused at the concept.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s your room, isn’t it? You should decorate it how you like.” Wilbur answered simply, looking back to the screen.<br/>
</p><p>“Oh…” Came Tommy's quiet reply, and Wilbur decided to leave it there, not wanting to stress the boy out further than he already had been that night. He clicked a random website.<br/>
</p><p>“Alright, this one’s got good reviews. It’s a little hard to know if you’ll like it without trying it out but worst comes to worst we can always send it back.”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>“What if you hung them between the windows?” Wilbur suggested from where he sat on Tommy’s new rug. The boy scanned the walls, three rolled up posters tucked in his arm, trying to decide where to hang them. The bed hadn’t come yet, it was set to arrive the next day hopefully — Wilbur was eager to get the poor kid off of the continuously leaking air mattress — but the decorations they’d ordered had come that afternoon. The two of them had already spent close to an hour attempting to hang up the LED lights, they were atrociously crooked, but Wilbur was attempting to ignore them.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy looked over his shoulder to the windows, his head tilting as he imagined it. “Think I can get’em even? Or are they going to end up like the lights?” He asked, a snarky tone to his voice. Wilbur narrowed his eyes at him.<br/>
</p><p>“Oi, I worked hard on their lights, they’re not that bad.” Tommy looked back to him, smirking.<br/>
</p><p>“Tell that to the ladies I’ll be trying to impress.”<br/>
</p><p>“Meeting a lot of ladies in our flat, are you?” Wilbur sassed back, Tommy huffed and rolled his eyes.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s okay if I put holes in the walls then?” Tommy asked, changing the subject. Wilbur hummed watching the boy cross the room to the opposite wall and unroll one to the posters.<br/>
</p><p>“Long as you help me caulk them when the time comes.” Wilbur’s phone buzzed in his hands, a notification from Phil popping up on the screen.<br/>
</p><p>“I’m a <em>minor.”</em> Tommy gasped, startling a laugh from Wilbur.<br/>
</p><p>“Shut up, gremlin child.” He said, choking on his own laughter as he tried to quell it. Tommy didn’t answer so Wilbur unlocked his phone.<br/>
</p><p><em>Dadza - 1:34: A new kid got whitelisted on the server. He’s only been streaming for like three months but he’s got nearly 300,000 followers. Techno and I are going to call him tomorrow to say hi if you wanna join. </em><br/>
</p><p>Wilbur’s eyes bugged slightly. 300,000 followers in <em>three</em> months? He couldn’t even imagine how overwhelming that would be, especially if he really was a kid.<br/>
</p><p><em>Wil - 1:36: How old is he? And yeah sure, what time? </em><br/>
</p><p><em>Dadza - 1:36: 17, I think, maybe 16. Around 2 probably.</em><br/>
</p><p>That was close to Tommy’s age. Wilbur looked up to see the boy struggling to hold the poster up and pin it at the same time and chuckled.<br/>
</p><p><em>Wil - 1:37: Sounds good. Maybe if he seems nice I can introduce him to Tommy, the boy needs friends.</em><br/>
</p><p>It was true, Wilbur was quite literally the only person Tommy talked to and he couldn’t imagine how alone the kid must feel. He heard Tommy groan as the poster slipped again.<br/>
</p><p>“I <em>am</em> going to rage.” Tommy muttered, nearly stabbing the wall. Wilbur pocketed his phone and pushed up off the floor.<br/>
</p><p>“Hold on, let me help you.” Wilbur took the pin from Tommy’s hands, letting the boy position it how he wanted before pushing it through the poster and into the wall.<br/>
</p><p>“Thanks, coulda used your help five minutes ago.” Tommy had grown exponentially sassier since their night of online shopping, Wilbur was sure it would have been obnoxious if it weren’t so entertaining. Plus it was nice to see Tommy come out of his shell again.<br/>
</p><p>“I could go back to sitting on the floor…” Wilbur offered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Tommy glared at him but there was little heat behind it.<br/>
</p><p>“Don’t you dare, big man.” He shoved the other pin into the poster. “We’ve got two more posters to go.”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>The next afternoon found Tommy alone in the living room. It still felt odd to be on his own in the flat, but Wilbur was doing Important Big Man Work in his room, so Tommy decided to leave him be. He sat quietly on the couch, a bag of crisps from his basket open next to him, Wilbur’s laptop on his crossed legs as he died to a group of Piglins on screen.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy threw his head back against the couch, groaning. He was steadily improving at the game, but he was still a little rusty from where he’d left off. He was able to beat Wilbur if he surprised the man, though, and that alone was enough to make all the annoying deaths worth it.<br/>
</p><p>The doorbell rang. Tommy’s head snapped up, his eyes cast down the entrance hallway. He looked away to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. He didn’t want to interrupt Wilbur. The man wasn’t streaming, he always warned Tommy before he went live, but he was busy…<br/>
</p><p>The doorbell rang again and Tommy realized he’d been staring down the hallway for nearly two minutes. He sighed and pushed the laptop to the side.<br/>
</p><p>He could open the door, he was a Big Man. It definitely wouldn’t be child protection services coming for him, there was no way they would know he was there. Besides, they’d never come looking for him before.<br/>
</p><p>Tommy walked down the entrance hallway, his steps hesitant. He should go get Wilbur.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s just opening the door, Tommy, don’t be a pussy.” Tommy tried to assure himself, but his fingers still shook as he reached for the knob. The image of his case worker popped into his head, the man who’d given up on him, the man he’d hopped never to see again. Tommy shook his head roughly, and twisted the knob. He could have sworn he felt the bolts tumble. He plastered a smile on his face to mask his panic as the door creaked open.<br/>
</p><p>Two men stood there, a long, narrow shape covered in plastic between them, a customer service smile on the first man’s face. Tommy felt relief wash over him, soon replaced by excitement as the man started to talk.<br/>
</p><p>“Delivery for Wilbur Soot?” He asked, looking Tommy up and down. Tommy nearly bounced where he stood.<br/>
</p><p>“Is that the mattress?” He asked, excitement evident in his voice. As much as he’d resisted Wilbur when the man had suggested it, Tommy was beyond ecstatic to get a real bed, and a brand new one at that. Tommy was sure he hadn’t slept in a new bed since his parents died, tens of kids having inhabited his old mattresses before him, sometimes even another boy at the same time as him. He couldn’t help but feel it was a stupid thing to be excited about, but he still was nonetheless.<br/>
</p><p>The man’s eyebrows drew together, looking between Tommy and the mattress as if the answer was obvious, which Tommy supposed it was.<br/>
</p><p>“Yes?” He said and Tommy’s smile only grew, his hands flailing slightly.<br/>
</p><p>“One second, I’ll go get Wil!” He didn’t wait for a response as he turned on his heel, running through the livingroom and down the hall, all previous hesitance about disturbing Wilbur forgotten. He turned the knob harshly and shoved the door open, not even flinching when it banged against the wall.<br/>
</p><p>“Wil! Wilby! It’s here, they’re at the door! It looks huge-” He froze, his hand still extended. Wilbur was sitting in his desk chair, his screen on in front of him, a small square in the corner of his screen showed he had his camera on. Had he forgotten to tell Tommy he was streaming? Tommy felt himself shrinking back slightly as he hoped he wasn’t on screen, an apology springing forward.<br/>
</p><p>Wilbur’s head had snapped towards him when the door slammed open, he didn’t look angry, but Tommy knew this was when he got yelled at. He should have known better, every foster kid knows when to not interrupt, and work hours were a major no-no for screaming and barging in. But when Wilbur spoke, he didn’t yell or chastise.<br/>
</p><p>“Did you just call me <em>‘Wilby’?”</em> He said, a shit eating grin spreading across his lips. Tommy’s spiraling thoughts stuttered to a halt. He looked frantically between Wilbur and the screen.<br/>
</p><p>“What? No. Are you live? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt, it’s just the delivery guys are here and they’re asking for you and-” Wilbur spun his chair around completely, his grin growing soft, losing its edge.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s alright, Toms, I’m just on the phone with a few friends. And you can call me Wilby if you’d like, I don’t mind.” Wilbur gestured him forward. “Come say hi, then I’ll go sign for the mattress.” Tommy watched Wilbur, paranoid that he may be putting on a show for his friends. He took a hesitant step forward. He trusted Wilbur. He always trusted Wilbur.<br/>
</p><p>A choking noise came from the screen, pulling both Wilbur’s and Tommy’s attention back to it.<br/>
</p><p>“Toby,” Another voice came from the screen sounding worried. A blondish man’s video growing larger, Tommy recognized him as Phil. “Are you-”<br/>
</p><p><em>“Tommy?” </em>Tommy’s eyes grew wide and his breath caught in his throat, he knew that voice. He ran the remaining distance to the desk in less than a second, squeezing next to Wilbur to look closely at the screen. Sure enough, another video stream started loading up, clearing quickly into the image of a wide-eyed teen boy.<br/>
</p><p>“T-Tubbo?” Tommy leaned in closer to the screen, unwilling and unable to believe that his best friend was staring back at him. At the bottom of the screen he could see the little picture of himself, his face taking up the entirety of the image, his forehead was way too close to the camera.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy, big man, you’ve gotta lean back a bit so I can see you.” Tubbo said, his voice just as unbelieving. A hand rested on Tommy’s shoulder at the same time, gently pulling him back.<br/>
</p><p>“I can’t believe…” Tommy muttered. Wilbur shifted to rub his shoulder comfortingly. He took a deep breath.<br/>
</p><p>“I take it you know each other?” Wilbur asked, his voice soothing Tommy’s excited panic. The boy nodded, unable to find the right words.<br/>
</p><p>“Tommy was my foster brother a few months back.” Tubbo said, his voice sounding just as awestruck as Tommy felt. Wilbur stiffened beside him, his grip tightening slightly on Tommy’s shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>“Not at the last house,” The man asked, though he sounded closer to begging, his voice etched with worry. Tommy shook his head frantically, lifting a hand to rest on top of Wilbur’s.<br/>
</p><p>“Tubbo’s got nice folks, a proper happy family.” Tommy assured him and he felt Wilbur relax.<br/>
</p><p>“Less happy since you left, Toms,” Tubbo’s voice cut back in, Tommy looked to the screen worriedly, but the other boy was still smiling. “I’ve missed you, it’s too quiet around here.”<br/>
</p><p>“If that’s your only complaint then it can’t be that bad…” Tommy scoffed, but he felt a wide smile stretch across his face. Wilbur clapped next to him, sitting forward in his chair.<br/>
</p><p>“Well, boys, I’ve got a delivery to tend to and Phil I bet your wife is missing you,” Phil shook his head, chuckling slightly. “Techno, you’ve been awfully quiet, go play with your dog or commit mass murder.” Wilbur stood up, pushing Tommy down into his place. “Bye now!” Wilbur sing-songed, smiling and waving at the camera.<br/>
</p><p>Phil was still shaking his head but responded in kind, his camera disappearing a second later, another voice that Tommy recognized to be Techno spoke up, telling Wilbur to fuck off before his icon also disappeared. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at Wilbur next to him.<br/>
</p><p>“Do you want help with the mattress?” Tommy asked, though he was unwilling to leave the computer any time soon. Wilbur shook his head.<br/>
</p><p>“Nope! You two have fun,” He said, bending down to smile into the camera. “Nice to meet you Tubbo,”<br/>
</p><p>“Nice to meet you too, Wilbur Soot!” Tubbo said happily on the screen, a cheeky smile on his face. Wilbur waved and exited the frame.<br/>
</p><p>“Thank you, Wilbur,” Tommy called, looking over his shoulder at Wilbur’s retreating back. Wilbur turned, walking backwards out of the room, and raised a finger at Tommy.<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t want to hear you calling me anything other than Wilby,” He said with a playful glare and Tommy couldn’t help but ask himself if this was what having a real older brother would be like.<br/>
</p><p>He didn’t express his wonderings, instead he rolled his eyes at the man, flipping him off, and turned back to Tubbo. He heard Wilbur’s laugh through the door as it closed.<br/>
</p><p>“Where in the hell have you been, I’ve been worried sick.” Tubbo said, not waiting a second after the door clicked shut. Tommy tilted his head and stared at the computer, confused at Tubbo’s abrupt change in attitude.<br/>
</p><p>“What do you mean?” He asked, Tubbo glared at him, obviously unamused. Tommy didn’t know how he’d upset his friend already.<br/>
</p><p>“CPS came knocking three weeks ago and asked if you were here. They said you ran away.” Tubbo accused. Tommy crossed his arms over his chest.<br/>
</p><p>“Sure took them a while to notice me missing.” He muttered grumply, still not understanding why Tubbo was mad at <em>him</em> of all people. Tubbo frowned on screen, his head tilting slightly.<br/>
</p><p>“How long?” He asked. Tommy thought about it for a minute.<br/>
</p><p>“Three weeks ago?” He asked, Tubbo nodded. “Well, I’ve been here for just over two weeks. Before that I was on the street for about a month and a half, maybe more.” Tubbo gapped at him.<br/>
</p><p>“Why didn’t you come here?” He asked, the accusing tone to his voice gone, now replaced with worry. Tommy huffed and slouched back in the chair.<br/>
</p><p>“Your parents would have called my case worker, Tubs.”<br/>
</p><p>“And they would have found you a new placement! It would have been better than being homeless.” Tubbo argued. Tommy lifted his eyes to the screen.<br/>
</p><p>“I’ve been homeless for four years. And you of all people know that’s not true.” He heard Tubbo sighed heavily through the speakers.<br/>
</p><p>“I do…” He said a moment later, sighing again and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to yell at you, I’m just glad you’re safe. You are safe, right? Tommy nodded, his smile returning slightly.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, I think I finally am.”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div><p>Wilbur fought with the sheets trying to get them to stay on the bed, but each time he moved to a new corner the last one snapped off. He had been surprised to see the delivery men still waiting for him when he finally emerged from his bedroom. They definitely didn’t seem happy with him, but they still helped get the bed inside. Wilbur made sure to give them a generous tip.<br/>
</p><p>He sighed in relief when he finally got the sheet on, grabbing the new comforter from Tommy’s desk chair. He wondered what the boys were talking about, hoping that they were still getting on well. Tubbo didn’t seem like the type to bully, and he knew Tommy wasn’t the type to take shit — when he wasn’t anxious — but Wilbur still couldn’t help the worry that spiked in him with each second that ticked by.<br/>
</p><p>Until he heard a loud laugh coming from the next room, traveling easily through the door. Wilbur hadn’t heard Tommy laugh like that before, he smiled at the sound of it. A few minutes later the door swung open across the hall and Wilbur looked up from where he was slipping the pillows into their cases.<br/>
</p><p>“Done already?” Wilbur asked, watching as Tommy crossed the hall, a huge smile on his face. The boy nodded.<br/>
</p><p>“His sister needed help with something,” Tommy said, picking up the other pillow. His smile turned hesitant. “He wants to call again soon, is that okay?” Wilbur threw the pillow to the head of the bed.<br/>
</p><p>“Of course! We can set you up your own Discord account so you can talk to him on the laptop whenever you want.” Wilbur offered, wishing Tommy weren’t still so scared about asking for things. He patted down the blanket one last time, then straightened, gesturing to it.<br/>
</p><p>“Ready to try it out?” He asked, fully expecting to see Tommy flop down onto the freshly made bed. Instead, the boy looked at the mattress, an odd expression on his face. A second later Wilbur found himself with an arm full of Tommy, the boy’s head tucked under his chin.<br/>
</p><p>“Thank you, Wilbur,” Tommy said, his voice muffled slightly as he hugged Wilbur tightly. Wilbur wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin in Tommy’s blond curls. “I’ve never felt so at home.” A hand tightened around Wilbur’s heart at those words, clutching it tightly.<br/>
</p><p>“Stop that, I <em>will</em> cry.” He pulled Tommy closer.<br/>
</p><p>“Whatever you say, Wilby.”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
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